


Desert Heat

by tuesday



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-26 00:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: The heat of Tatooine hit Obi-Wan like a body blow as he stepped off the ship, Luke cradled in his arms.





	Desert Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chrysaora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/gifts).

> This is mostly canon compliant, taking place prior to and at the very beginning of _A New Hope_. If I ever wrote out what happened after the ending, I imagine it would end up going off the rails quickly, but I stuck with a tighter focus. There are hints of Anakin/Obi-Wan if you want to take them that way, but the main focus of the story is Luke/Obi-Wan.
> 
> CNTW is for the mating cycles/in heat part.
> 
> Recipient, I hope you enjoy! Your AU freeform tags all looked like a lot of fun, and I very much appreciated your answering my questions.

The heat of Tatooine hit Obi-Wan like a body blow as he stepped off the ship, Luke cradled in his arms. Luke didn’t fuss at the shift in air, at how dry it was, at the way Obi-Wan shuddered to a halt at the sudden sense memory of being a Padawan stepping foot on this planet for the first time with no idea of what was to come besides a vague sense of foreboding. Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to turn around and get back onto the ship, to find a better world for little Luke. Leia was being settled on Alderaan, a pleasantly warm, wet garden world that welcomed life. Tatooine held only sand and more sand.

“This is your legacy,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice. He shifted Luke closer. “You’ll like it here.”

They started with a lie, but Luke wasn’t awake to hear it. Obi-Wan walked to the house, to the last of Anakin’s living family. Luke slept on, oblivious to the fact he was coming home. He only woke when his uncle gently pulled him into his arms. Luke’s high, thin wails echoed in Obi-Wan’s ears as he turned his back and walked away.

*

Obi-Wan went into a form of retirement. He stuck nearby, if not close, because he had to. He wasn’t needed in Luke’s life past the occasional misadventure—Luke had an uncle now, if not a father—but that could change. Luke could change. Vader might find him.

He built a house in the mountains. The Jawas left him alone after a few skirmishes proved he wasn’t easy prey. Life was quiet. He sought peace in the Force.

When his heats came, Obi-Wan shut himself away and embraced his training, meditating and releasing his feelings into the Force. It was strange to do this outside his rooms in the Temple or the healing halls. Always before, no matter the mission, he’d spent his heats on Coruscant. The only time he’d experienced one outside of it was in the middle of the Clone Wars. It had been muted and strange, suppressants keeping it a low fever that itched for a full month instead of burning through it in a few days quickly put behind him.

On Tatooine, the heat in his body met the heat of day. At night, he shivered, cold and alone. Everything in his body cried out, aching and empty, longing to be filled. There were no healers to bring cool, damp cloths to soothe him, no crèche mates or old masters to drop by and check on him. They were all dead or disappeared. The Force remained. Obi-Wan immersed himself in it, let it take the pain and the want and the loneliness, made himself an empty vessel sensation flowed through.

Eventually, always, it burned out. It became part of his routine, an inconvenience that occurred twice a year, another way to mark the passing of time.

Time passed slowly, inevitably, a tectonic plate shifting and bearing Obi-Wan with it. Tatooine’s sun baked his skin. The nights froze him. The dry air left him parched and thirsting. Obi-Wan felt like he aged years in months and decades in years. The pain in his heart that returned time and again muted, shifted. The Force brought peace.

This wasn’t the life Obi-Wan would have chosen for himself, but it was the one he had. He accepted it.

*

Before Obi-Wan knew it nearly nineteen years had passed. Empire Day was upon them.

Luke wanted to apply for the Imperial Academy. Like his father before him, he was projected to present as an alpha. He was young and reckless. He didn’t know what any of it meant, didn’t understand the galaxy outside of the desert he lived in. He’d grown up knowing only a tenuous peace, if one could call the tight grip of tyranny peace. He wanted adventure. He wanted something more than the life he lived. He was a Skywalker. He yearned for more than the sand beneath his feet.

Fortunately Owen lived with his feet planted in the earth. He discouraged flights of fancy. He told Luke no and passed that information on to Obi-Wan when he came to inquire after rumors.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Owen said. “Go back to your mountains. If you wanted to thank me, you would forget we exist.”

“Who’s at the door?” Luke asked from inside the dwelling.

“No one,” Owen called back. He glared at Obi-Wan. “Don’t come back here.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. He left.

*

When Luke took to wandering the valley after presenting, Obi-Wan came to realize he shouldn’t have come at all.

*

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Obi-Wan went into town before his next heat. He bought suppressants.

They were ineffective, or maybe Obi-Wan had gotten a bad batch. He felt worse than he ever had before. He was on fire, and lying against the floor was little help. His robes itched and caught harshly against his skin. When night fell, it brought no relief. He shuddered and shook, freezing and burning at once. He was covered in sweat, hair plastered against his head. His thighs dripped with the slick that leaked out of him. He was achingly empty and desperate to be filled.

Obi-Wan tried to reach that perfect balance, to experience without feeling. He dumped wave after wave of longing into the Force. He was striving so hard to achieve balance, immersing himself in the flow of energy around him, that he missed the light through the windows that heralded morning. He didn’t hear the knock at the door—missed his visitor entirely until they were leaning in, shaking his shoulder.

“Ben?” came a concerned voice.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and for a moment another face layered over the one hovering over him. Obi-Wan touched it with a weak, trembling hand before it cleared into Luke Skywalker’s worried expression.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Obi-Wan said.

“You left your windows open,” Luke said. “I’ll close them, then leave if that’s what you want.”

“Do that,” Obi-Wan said. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop shaking.

“Can I get you anything?” Luke asked. “Water? Medicine? I could help you to bed.”

Sometimes Anakin had been this sweet when he wasn’t being sullen or sarcastic.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s cooler on the floor.”

There was the sound of the shutters being closed, Luke’s footsteps as he moved around. He came back with a damp cloth and wiped at Obi-Wan’s face and neck.

“I’m afraid that if I leave you here, someone’s going to find your dead body the next time they come by. I can grab my speeder, take you to Tosche Station. There’s a clinic there.” Luke’s hands lingered. He might have the best intentions, but his scent was filling the now closed space, pheromones rising up to match what Obi-Wan was pumping out. “There has to be something I can do for you.”

“If you’re that concerned, you can come check on me tomorrow,” Obi-Wan allowed.

“How about tonight?” Luke asked.

Obi-Wan was past his days as a masterful negotiator. He agreed. “Tonight.”

“I’ll bring dinner,” Luke said. Before he left, he brought Obi-Wan a glass of water and a protein bar, along with a sheet Obi-Wan immediately threw off and a pillow he ignored. “You’re sure you don’t need anything else?”

“_Go_, Luke.”

Luke went.

*

It got worse, which Obi-Wan hadn’t thought was possible. Obi-Wan ate the food and drank the water Luke had provided, then made a brief trip to the ’fresher to clean up and use the facilities, but otherwise stayed on the floor of the main room. He took the cloth Luke had used and pressed it against his nose. Luke’s scent lingered, spice and musk. Obi-Wan groaned and pressed a hand to his lower belly. His insides cramped with want.

When Luke returned, Obi-Wan was covered in sweat again and absolutely miserable. Luke had brought ingredients for cooking and helped himself to Obi-Wan’s kitchen after helping him sit up against the wall with more water and a fresh cloth. Luke put together what looked to be some sort of stew, putting the lid over the pot before he came back to seat himself next to Obi-Wan on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked tiredly.

“Taking care of you,” Luke answered cheerfully.

“I’m fifty-seven years old,” Obi-Wan said.

“So it’s about time someone started.” Luke put an arm around Obi-Wan. Despite himself, Obi-Wan leaned into it. Luke’s clothes were scratchy and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan wanted to tear them off. He wanted to curl against Luke’s bare skin. Luke threaded his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. “Dinner will be a while. Try to get some rest.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Meditation failed him.

Some indeterminate time later, Luke started to get up, and Obi-Wan caught his wrist. For the first time, Luke looked conflicted. “I need to stir the pot.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi. The Jedi were dead. Vader had killed them. What did the old tenets matter?

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Let it burn.”

Obi-Wan pulled Luke down. Luke came quickly, easily, eagerly, falling into Obi-Wan’s embrace. He was young, reckless. He didn’t know what it meant when he mouthed at Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He couldn’t understand when he shed his clothes and covered Obi-Wan’s body with his own. He had no idea of the history between them when he pushed inside, chasing away that ache and filling Obi-Wan up.

_I knew your father,_ Obi-Wan thought. _I knew him and I loved him, and if the world is kind, you will never find out._

They didn’t live in a kind world. Tatooine was harsh and unforgiving. The universe was indifferent to suffering. Even the Force only brought peace, not happiness.

“Ben,” Luke called him by a false name he’d adapted for his own purposes. “You feel amazing. _Ben_.”

The stew burned. Obi-Wan’s heat burned out under Luke’s diligent attention.

*

In the morning, Obi-Wan sent Luke away.

“But what if—” Luke said from the door, ever the optimist.

“No,” Obi-Wan said forbiddingly. “I’m an old man. I don’t wish to bond.”

“You’re not that old,” Luke said stubbornly.

“I can’t be what you need.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Thank you for your help, but that’s all it was.”

“What about your next heat?” Luke said.

“It’s not your concern.” From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan could see Luke’s dejected expression, the slump of his shoulders. Obi-Wan ran a hand down his rough, sun-beaten face. “Who says you’ll even be on the planet?”

“What if I stayed?”

Obi-Wan was tempted. This was one way to tie Luke to Tatooine, to ensure that no matter how rebellious he felt, he didn’t sneak off to join the Imperial Academy.

“No,” Obi-Wan said. He was tired. He turned away. “Go home.”

Luke wasn’t Anakin. Luke didn’t give off a single hint of resentment as he turned on his heel and left.

That should have been the end of it.

*

That wasn’t the end of it.

Twelve days later, a familiar droid showed up on Obi-Wan’s doorstep. Luke followed after it. He brought with him another old friend and a whole heap of trouble.

He brought hope, too.

*

(It was the beginning.)


End file.
